led to a demonstration on my part, but in this girl it seemed so entirely
natural and candid that it was a complete bar to undue familiarity. In
truth, I had no such tendency, for the childish act spoke of an innocence
and faith that were very sweet to me who all my life had lived among men
and women who laughed at those simple virtues. The simple conditions of
life are all that are worth striving for. They come to us fresh from
Nature and from Nature's God. The complex are but concoctions of man after
recipes in the devil's alchemy. So much gold, so much ambition, so much
lust. Mix well. Product: so much vexation.

"He must resemble his mother," said Dorothy, after a long pause. "Poor
fellow! His mother is dead. He is like me in that respect. I wonder if his
father's villanies trouble him?"

"I think they must trouble him. He seems to be sad," said I, intending to
be ironical.

My reply was taken seriously.

"I am sorry for him," she said, "it is not right to hate even our enemies.
The Book tells us that."

"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," said I, amused and provoked.

Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the perverse
girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire."

The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when used to
modify the noun girl.